Battlestar Redemption
by airbornedraco
Summary: Can an outcast Commander and an unwanted crew find Redemption? This is an AU Story that starts about six years before the Fall of the Colonies.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

 **Colonial Politics**

 **34 Years since the End of the Cylon War**

 **\- 0945 hours, Fleet Command Headquarters, Picon; Fleet Admiral's Reception Area -**

Colonel Michael Struck sat nervously outside Fleet Admiral Corman's Office. The reception area was well appointed with large leather couches and chairs, expensive looking wooden tables and of course large Colonial flags representing each of the Colonies and the Colonial government. On the walls hung paintings of major colonial battles of the past and important ships of the colonial fleet. No reception area would be completed without a receptionist, and the Fleet Admiral's receptionist was a dosey, 5 foot 5 inch, early 20's blond bombshell of a women. She was dressed as if she was ready for a nice night out on the town. She was just leaning back in her chair chewing gum and buffing her nails, but when you look like she does you are not there for your I.Q. She was as much for the decor of the area as the flags and the paintings on the wall.

Michael was a fairly good looking man at 32 years of age standing at an intimidating 6 foot 2 inch height and weighing about 225 pounds. He had just been promoted to the rank of Colonel two months before and was waiting on his orders for an Executive Officer posting; when the ship he was the Operations Officers on, was assigned a top secret mission.

The Battlestar Valkyrie was to approach the Cylon demilitarized zone; more commonly known as the Red Line; and launch a new stealthstar across the line in order to gather information on any cylon activity on the other side. With the 34th Anniversary of the end of the Cylon war fast approaching and with no contact from the Cylons in that entire time, the Admiralty wanted to stick their noses over the line and see if any information could be gathered.

Unfortunately for all involved it failed miserably, as soon as the stealthstar had crossed the line, what was believed to be several small cylon craft had jumped all over the stealthstar and Commander Adama had to make the hard call and launched a missile in order to stop the cylons from capturing the stealthstar and the pilot. Now everyone was trying to cover their ass; with the Presidential election just over a year away and Adar wanting to ramp up his social programs and downsize the military everyone was on edge and trying to keep their heads down.

Just then the large wooden door to Fleet Admiral Corman's Office opened and his old Commanding Officer, Commander Adama came walking out. Making eye contact with Adama, Michael stood up from the plush brown leather couch to greet him as he walked over.

"Commander Adama, sir." Michael said while rendering a crisp salute.

"Hello Michael, I am sorry that you are getting pulled into this mess as well." Adama said heavily as he returned the gesture and then shook Michael's hand.

Michael relaxed his posture at Adama's cordial reply. Michael responded with "Yes sir, I understand. Any idea on what I am walking into, sir?"

Adama's shoulders slightly slumped causing Michael's tension to rise. If he had not been working with the old warhorse for the last three years he would have easily missed the visual cue of Adama's distress. "Unfortunately, I am not sure what they have in mind for you Michael, but I did try to get you assigned with me and Tye on the Galactica or bar that at least give you a command posting."

Michael's ire raised with that small statement, "They are taking the Valkyrie away from you, sir?" Michael asked with slight heat in his tone.

"At ease, Colonel Struck." Adama said strongly to admonish the young Colonel. "The Valkyrie is due for a six to eight month refit and the brass thought it a gesture of kindness to have my last posting be on the Galactica before my and her retirement, since the Adar Administration just put her on the list for decommissioning in about six years."

Just then the Admiral's cute little receptionist interrupted their conversation, "The Admiral will see you now, Colonel Struck."

"'For whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.', I guess it is time to face the music." Michael then sharply saluted Commander Adama for what maybe the last time and stated "It has been a pleasure and an honor serving under your command, sir."

Adama returned the salute and clearly stated, "The pleasure was all mine, Colonel. If I do not see you again, take care of yourself Mike."

Michael shook Adama's hand and turned to follow the tight ass of Admiral Corman's receptionist into the Admirals Office.

 **-1005 Hours, Fleet Admiral Corman's Office-**

Colonel Struck walked ramrod straight as he entered Admiral Corman's Office and as the Admiral's receptionist closed the door as she exited once Michael was inside without even announcing his presents to the admiral. Michael march with his head held high directly in front of the large modern glass desk, thinking that if he was going to get the shity end of the stick the frak if he was going to allow some politically connected hack intimidate him.

"Admiral Corman, Colonel Struck reporting as ordered, Sir." Michael snap a crisp salute and stated in a clear and strong voice.

The Admiral behind the desk did not even look up from the papers he was reading, he just throw up a lazy salute and kept reading. Michael dropped his hand just as sharply as he had lifted it and observed the Admiral. He knew the Admiral had not fought in the Cylon War and was a peace time Admiral. Michael thought that that was one of the reasons that President Adar had appointed him to the post of Fleet Admiral, more of a yes man, paper pusher type and it showed. The Admiral was a short balding man with almost white hair and had not done anything more physical than sitting up out of bed, and pushing himself away from a table in many years.

Eventually the Admiral began to speak in a soft almost mousey voice, "I am just reviewing your records, Colonel. Top five percent at the Fleet academy, top graduate of both basic flight and advanced flight training course. You were then stationed on Battlestar Atlantia as a Viper Pilot and eventually a Squadron Commander. You then went to the Viper Combat leaders course were you graduated with distinction and was assigned to the Mercury Battlestar Columbia as the Commander Air Group under then Colonel Adama who was the Executive Officer. You then went to the Advanced Combat Officers Leaders Course were you once again graduated in the top five percent of the class and followed Commander Adama to the Battlestar Valkyrie as his operations officer and were just promoted the the rank of Colonel before this fiasco happened."

"Yes, sir, that sounds about right." Michael stated clearly with a little pride in his voice.

The Admiral then finally looked up from the papers he was reading and stated in a voice that almost felt slimy has Michael heard it, "It seems you hitch your wagon to the wrong horse Colonel." was the statement.

"I sorry sir, but I do not understand" Michael asked questionably.

"Let me spell it out for you Colonel. Commander Adama has some old family connection on Caprica and there are those in the Fleet that are willing to back him, hince the bone i gave him of the Galactica. An old worn out ship for an old worn out man, and of course were ever Adama leads Tye follows him around like a lost puppy. So I am limited on what i can do to Adama and therefore Tye as well. Major Flint the Engineering Officer and third in charge of the Valkyrie is good friends with Admiral Dresher at Caprica Station and also has a standing invitation to play golf with his childhood friend Mr. Tony Smithers, CEO of one of the largest government and military contractors, and best buddies and major financial supporter of President Adar. Therefore untouchable and blameless for this mess." The Admiral finally took a slow breath but continued to pick up steam and increase the volume of his voice. "You on the other hand have no one. Orphaned on Sagittaron, raise in the system until you made it into the Fleet Academy and then repeatedly assigned under Adama's command so there are few that even know you. This Promotion to Colonel and an executive officer spot would have been your big chance, but now someone has to take the brunt of the fallout from this situation you find yourself in. Adama Tried to help but he only has room for one colonel and he used any and all political clout to keep him and Tye on a ship."

The admiral leaned back in his chair and looked Michael in the eye for the first time since he entered the office. "Do you understand now what kind of situation you are in, Colonel?"

Michael took a few calming breaths as he thought of the situation and tried to keep his temper in check before answering in an even almost dead tone, " Yes, I believe I do." he pause slightly before adding "sir."

"Good, because I promised both Flint and Adama I would still give you a position of importance that maybe you could rebuild a career from." he paused as a cruel smile began to appear on his face, "I am assigning you as the Commander of a Fleet Yard."

Michael thought about is for a few seconds and thought that that did not sound to bad, after all the reserve fleet was stationed at the main fleet yards and it was also were several Battlestars were stationed for repairs and as security, but he look to the Admiral and saw the smirk on his face and the sliet gleam in his eye and began to get nervous.

The admiral than continued and all hope left Michael's heart that he may be able to rebuild his career. " I am assigning you as Commander of Fleet Reclamation Yard Delta."

"Fleet Reclamation Yard, Delta, Sir?" Michael asked quizzically.

"I am not surprised that you have never heard of it, Yard Delta is located about .2 light years outside Helios Delta near the Hecate cloud." The admiral stated as he looked at another piece of paper to confirm the location.

To say that Michael was shocked was a gross understatement. "But sir, there is nothing out that far but rocks and dust."

"But do not forget that you will have your own command, or as much of one as that old pile of scrap can be considered a command." the Admiral chuckled slightly to himself before handing a piece of paper to Michael and continuing, " Colonel Struck, you hereby ordered to report to Fleet Reclamation Yard Delta no later than 15 days from this date. You are hereby ordered to take command of said yard and insure the operations there are conducted in the highest order as expected of a Colonial post. You are dismissed, Colonel." The Admiral concluded loudly.

Michael barely lifted his hand in a half hearted salute, turned and left the Office. The only thing going through Michael's mind as he walked out of Colonial Fleet Headquarters and made his what to the waiting raptor was, "You have to be Fraking kidding me."

AN: This is my very first story, so please read and review. I am already working on my next chapter and any real reviews will be appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 **Harsh Realities**

 **\- 0630 Hours, 0.2 light years outside Helios Delta near the Hecate Cloud, Fleet Reclamation Yard Delta -**

Having been awake for several hours; Michael stared out the small window in his ready room like he had every morning for the last month. Pieces of wrecked ships flooted passed like a sad imitation of a pass and review on a parade ground. One large piece of debris appeared to be what was left of the engine block from a Mercury Class Battlestar. Michael realized once again that the scenery was not going to improve his dismal mood, Michael Struck stood up from his desk chair and stretched hearing several satisfying pops as he did so. When he awoke this morning he began to review what paperwork was actually completed from his subordinates and trying to keep from pulling his hair out. Stepping over to the old worn couch that was located in his office, Michael grabbed the dark blue Colonial Uniform jacket for his pressed duty blues and put them on. Buttoning up the jacket he left his combination quarters and office, and headed down the narrow corridors, most of the lights did not even function and the walls were almost completely covers in rust. The dim lighting and the rust gave the hole station a macabre appearance and looked like dried old blood had oozed out of the walls. The hall led to what was left of the original station's CIC. It was a large circular room with more non functional workstations then it had functional ones. A single small light table for maps or other documents was in the center under the partially functional dradis screen; and a few crew members at computer work stations scattered around. The station was the old pre-war dockyard that was past its prime even before the war started.

"Morning Sir." mumbled the only senior officer in the room, Major Jones. Major Anthony Jones was the 38 year old Executive Officer assigned to Yard Delta and was second in command and had been Stations at the yard for four years. Major Jones was of average size and height at 5 foot 9 and 190 pounds. The Major had appeared to have a promising career and was the Operations Officer for the Maintenance Yard above Sagittaron. But he started to develop a bit of a gambling problem and got in over his head and owed money to the wrong types of people. He had been approached by a shady character willing to pay off his debts if he was willing to sell some outdated military equipment. It turned out that the shady character was actually an undercover investigator with Fleet Criminal Investigations Division and got himself send to this illustrious posting. "Coffee sir?" he asked.

"Yes please, has are supply shipment arrived overnight or is it week old grinds again?" Michael asked heavily already dreading the answer.

"Unfortunately. Our Monthly supply shipment is late, again. Not like we're part of the Fleet or anything."

"I will send another dispatch to Fleet HQ and see if we can get a status on the supplies." Everyone around the CIC just shook their head already knowing the answer, if they get one at all.

Just then, a loud bang sounded from overhead. "What was that?" asked Colonel Struck, just loud enough for others to hear.

"Probably just some junk bouncing off the hull, again?" responded a marine corporal lazily leaning against the wall near the entrance to the CIC. And with a sharp look from Colonel Struck he hastily added "Sir."

Everyone chuckled a bit at the response. Colonel Struck has been trying to re-instill some level of respect and decorum in his new command but it was slow going due to the feeling of hopelessness and abandonment most of the crew of the yard felt.

After getting his slightly tinted water masquerading itself as coffee and with no new news, Michael took his leave and headed for the observation deck. "Major Jones, you have the con."

"Aye sir, I have the con." came the reply from Jones.

Two Decks below the CIC in the central hub of the station was a large observation deck. It was the only place on the facility that possessed large viewing windows. Standing at one of the windows, Michael gazed out over his command.

Michael observed the station itself, setup like the spokes of a wheel the arms of the station extended out of the center Control hub. There was plenty of room for over 50 ships to dock to the station and past that was a collection of old decommissioned warships and many civilian ships floating haphazardly around the station. Every ship there was waiting to be stripped of all usable parts and scrapped. Even still, the sight was pretty impressive.

The large docking structure suggested the place was once a major shipyard, and by the looks of it comparable to even those at Picon or Scorpio. In its prime, the shipyard anchorage would support nearly 15,000 personnel and maintenance workers, but his command only consisted of 2,156 crew members. One Squadron of 20 old mark five Vipers for defence, 30 raptors and 5 heavy tugs for collecting ships and scrap around the anchorage, and 2000 crew members working the functioning parts of the facility in order to process the parts and scrap collected.

Closest to the facility was the heavily damaged Mercury Class Battlestar Theseus. One of the main power reactors had gone critical and had blown the engine section into pieces and had taken a pretty large chunk of the central hull with it. With nothing put one primary reactor left, no FTL capability, no engine section, combined with the public outcry at the deaths of over a thousand fleet personnel, the entire ship was sent to the yard for scrap but due to the radioactive nature of the explosion what was left of the once great warship flooted dead in space.

Next to it was a much smaller vessel, a dilapidated escort ship that saw more than its fair share of action during the Cylon War. Hull breaches everywhere, no engines, and most of the armor had already stripped off. There were several other hulks floating in the Military section awaiting there final fate but the Mercury was blocking his ability to identify most of them.

Past this was a collection of civilian ships, either impounded for piracy or smuggling, or damaged in accidents and hauled away with or without the owner's permission. Michael could see the domes of a Argo Class Cruiser sticking out over the top of the other craft that floated in the civilian area.

Thinking back to the supply issue, Michael remembered his days growing-up and working on his foster families farm on Sagittaron. If the Argo ship had a serviceable dome maybe they could supplement some of the food supply and maybe even add to their diet. The idea had merit but also had many issues.

Before he could think on the issue any more, the stations intercom crackled to life, "CIC to Colonel Struck, please contact CIC."

Colonel Struck lifted the wall old receiver off the wall and once the connection tone sounded clearly stated "Actual to CIC".

"Actual, we have Raptor Leader on the com for you, sir, patching you through now." the communications specialist stated.

"Go for Actual." Michael said.

"Actual, this is Flame, just want to confirm what junk we are targeting for today's flight. We're locating usable gun barrels from some old vipers and then taking some more hull plating of the old escort ship right? Or were we going to remove some engines from that civvie freighter?" Captain Cathlene "Flame" Moody was his fierce red headed lead Raptor pilot, hince her callsign Flame.

She almost always led the raptor teams through the yard on the scrapping runs. She'd been transferred to the shipyard after punching her Commanding Officer in the face and then taking a raptor from the Battlestar Hera on a joyride. That ride earned her ticket to the deepest pit in the Colonial Fleet. But for whatever indiscretion, they found it fulfilling to drop her on the edge of Colonial space.

"Flame, this is Actual. Take the Barrels and then the plating. Those engines are a low priority." Mike stated, having reviewed the priority list that very morning.

"Roger that sir." a moment of silence. "So when are you finally going to come out and join us for a flight Colonel? We know you still have flight status." Out here on the ass end of nowhere there was no one to care what happened this was the dumping ground for the unwanted and troubled Colonial Fleet personnel. Michael could easily just take time to fly, something he had not been able to do much since he left being CAG.

"Captain, you know I have to stay…" Colonel Struck started.

"Yes, you have to stay in the base in case some all important message comes through. Colonel, you work at a junkyard. You could take the day off and I doubt anyone would notice." Michael thought about it for a few more seconds and figured it would be a good to 'stretch his legs' so to speak.

After a few seconds of quite the Captain once again transmitted on the com, "Actual, are you still on the line…"

"Roger that Flame, I will meet you outside in one hour."

"Sir, yes, Sir." came the excited reply.

Michael hung up and then once again picked up the old receiver and stated "Actual to CIC".

The specialist at communications voice crackled of the earpiece "CIC here, sir."

"Please contact Chief Holbrook on the Flight deck and tell him to ready a viper for me," Michael stated clearly " and put me on to Major Jones."

"Yes, sir" came the curt reply.

"Go for Jones" came the somber reply.

"Anthony this is Actual, I am about to go out and stretch my legs and take a flight around the yard. You are in Command of operations until I return."

"Yes,Sir."

"And Anthony I also need you to pull all the information on that old Agro ship that is out in the civilian yard. I want to have a look at it when I get back."

"I will see what we have but most of the records on the civilian craft is shoddy at best." Jones responded.

"Understood, Actual out." Michael then hung up the phone and left to make his way to the hanger bay.

AN: Thanks to all those that have reviewed but I got a negative review that i wanted to reply to directly.

Per canon Adama described Adar as a "moron" and in script as a "prick". Mary McDonnell stated in an interview that adar was married when he was sleeping with her. Also he is besties with Baltar who is depicted as an egocentric "prick", birds of a feather and all that.

Adar was willing to use Marines on his own citizens in order to get his way which resulted in deaths, and make deals with murdering terrorists for political gain (all canon). He even wanted Roslin's resignation when she peacefully ended a teachers strike and he could not get his way. Also immediately after the first Cylon strike at Picon he offers a complete and total unconditional surrender, not even willing to fight. Is this his decision alone or did his political appointee Military Leaders tell him to, canon does not say.

Being in the military for many years I can tell you that many Senior Generals and Admirals are appointed "Yes Men", Obama did it multiple times and was know to fire those that did not tow the line. Corman ordered Adama to execute the mission on the red line but when it goes south takes away Adamas bright and shiny Battlestar and sends him to the Old Galactica.

So my depiction of Adar and Corman maybe a slight stretch but I find it realistically possible and unless my research tells me different and I find canon to backup changing my interpretation I will go with my experience. You said that there was "nothing in canon to say that the Military budget was being reduced by Adar in any way nor that Corman was anything like he's portrayed here at all" but there is also nothing in canon that opposes my interpretation.

Thanks for the review.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 **The Uninvited**

 **-0830 Hours, 0.2 light years outside Helios Delta near the Hecate Cloud, Fleet Reclamation Yard Delta -**

Suiting up for a flight was certainly more exciting than what he usually did since being posted at Yard Delta. Though he had retained flight status over the years since being assigned as the Commander, Air Group of the Battlestar Columbia, he hadn't really flown in over a year and Michael found his blood beginning to pump with excitement at the prospect of once again strapping into a Viper. As he finished zipping up his flight suit that Michael brought with him from the Battlestar Valkyrie, he looked around the Ready Room and could not stop himself from shaking his head in shame at what he saw.

The large locker room was just as poorly lit and maintained as the rest of the ship. The lights that did work seemed to flicker on and off at different intervals, giving the space a feel of abandonment. Several of the locker doors were either hanging by a single hinge or just propped against the locker opening. Pieces of flight equipment were just thrown around the room and one of his "crack" pilots looked to be passed out sitting on the floor in the far corner of the room.

Michael walked out of the Pilots ready room and into the docking bay. He saw Chief Holbrook near one of the Mark 5 Vipers finishing the final checks and signing off his portion of the inspection form. Michael walked over to the Viper and started to do his preflight checks. The Viper appeared to be rather well maintained considering everything else in the yard that he had seen.

"Sir, I got her all ready for you." the Chief stated while handing the checklist over to Michael.

As Michael continued to go over the checklist and signing off himself, he complemented the Chief on his fine work, "Chief, this bird looks to be in really good shape, are all our small craft this well maintained?"

"Yes Sir, I have been here for two years and as soon as I saw the sorry state the small craft were in, I started whipping the knuckle draggers into shape." Holbrook began with pride. "When I first got shipped to this hole, out of the twenty vipers assigned only eight worked and I would not have trusted those eight to not break apart halfway down the launch tube. Also only 10 Raptors and one heavy tug worked. It was a lot of hard work getting it back to some type of standard but now we have 25 Vipers on ready service status."

"But I thought we only had 20 Vipers assigned to Delta Yard for Security?" Michael questioned.

"That's true sir, in order to get everything fixed I had some of the lads haul in as many small craft and vipers as they could find in the yard, and I then had the lazy knuckle draggers working double shift to strip them down to basic parts. After that was done it was just a matter of making proper repairs. We were even able to salvage five additional Vipers that we keep up as backup." The Chief was clearly proud of everything that he had accomplished.

"That's wonderful Chief, You should be proud of everything you have been able to do in this environment." Michael then thought about it, and could not help but ask, "Chief what did you do to get sent out to this little piece of paradise?"

The Chief lost a little bit of gleam in his eye and was clearly not comfortable with the topic, but took a breath before answering, "I got myself a bit of a drinking problem and even though I worked hard as the flight Chief on the Defender Class Gunstar Ulysses, my drinking finally caught up to me and i was caught drinking while on duty. I am not proud of it but I have been sober for the last two years and have worked hard to maybe one day get back on a combat ship."

"Well keep up the great work Chief, and although I can not promise anything as I am also here but I will try to keep an ear open for any chance." Michael stated honestly as he made his way up the ladder to the cockpit of the Viper.

"Thanks for that, Sir" Holbrook stated.

 **\- 0845 Hours -**

Michael felt himself be pushed back into the seat as the Viper shot out of the launch tube of Yard Delta, as he righted the Viper he pressed the transmit button under his left thumb, "Viper 411 to CIC."

"CIC to Viper 411, send transmission." Came the blank reply from the communications Specialist in CIC.

"Viper 411, callsign Bat; I will be taking a flight around the yard for a survey and Raptor 385 will be on my wing." Struck informed CIC.

"Roger Bat; have a good flight." CIC responded. Michael could hear the slight amusement in the Specialists voice.

"Bat this is Flame; I am coming up on your six." Came his lead Raptor pilots voice over the wireless as she came up from behind and took up his wing at his nine o'clock.

"By the way, how did you get the Callsign Bat of all things?" Captain Cathlene "Flame" Moody asked clearly trying not to bust out laughing.

Michael grinned to himself as he thought back, "When I was a rookie pilot first assigned to the Battlestar Atlantia, after my very first familiarization flight the Operations Officer at the time, said I flew like a 'bat with the flames of hades coming after me.' so the name Bat stuck."

"That is too funny;" Moody was clearly laughing now. "Who was the Operation Officer that gave you that name?" she asked curious as to who would give someone such a name.

"William Adama." came Michael's easy reply.

There was a clear pause in the com traffic at that response. Even almost 35 years later Adama's flight experience was legendary and everyone still looked up to his skill in a viper. "So sir, what is the plan?" Flame finally called over the wireless.

"I want to have a little trip around the yard and have a close look at that Argo ship sitting in the civilian area." Bat replied. "So let's head over there first and after that we can just cruise around the rest."

"Roger Bat, I have your wing; you lead, I follow." Flame stated.

As the two Colonial craft slowly made there way around the Civilian craft housed around the yard, Michael took a closer look at what was stored there. He saw several older looking freighter container carriers, some even still had containers connected to the hulls. He could make out larger bulk freighters, passenger craft, electronic and maintenance craft, and even some old mining vessels all scattered around with no clear method to the madness. The ships just looked like they were just towed into the yard area and left to slowly drift into a pile of ships. It reminded him of a kids toy chest with everything just thrown in together in one big mass.

Finally, they came around the "pile" of ships and came upon what had caught his eye from the window of the observation deck. There before him what he had thought might have been an old first war agro ship was actually a full Botanical Cruiser and at first glance appeared to be in good shape.

"Flame, please turn on your illumination lights and come to heading 796 carom 225." Michael stated as he reviewed dradis screen in order to get the proper heading.

"Roger Bat, coming to heading 796 caron 225 and station holding." Flame responded.

As both the two crafts slowly made their way around the larger Cruiser, Michael looked over the outside of the ship. As far as he could tell the ship seemed to be in good order, there did not appear to be any major damage to the hull and he could not see any areas open to space.

It took a good twenty minutes to make his way around the Botanical Cruiser and he could not help but wonder how a ship in such nice condition could end up sent out here for scraping but that would need to wait until he made it back to Yard Delta and reviewed whatever information they had on the ship. After the final sweep Michael also took note that all fifteen of the Biodomes still had all its glass panels intact.

"Bat to Flame, I think that I have seen enough for the time being, are you ready to move on around the rest of the Civilian craft and then head over to the Colonial Fleet Section?" Micheal called to Moody over the com.

"Yes sir, ready when you are." Flame responded

With that confirmation Michael turned his viper and continued his lazy patrol around the civilian part of the yard, but Michael felt that the craft where to jumbled together to actually get a feel for everything there. He would need to review any records of the individual ships and then get them slowly towed into a semblance of order and organized.

Finally, they made it to the far end of the yard and made the turn to move over to the Military side. Much like the civilian side it just looked like all the ships were jumbled together without any thought to organization and order.

"By the gods what did the past commanders do out here. This place is a mess and is going to take months to sort through and organize." Michael thought aloud without transmitting his feeling to the rest of his command.

Michael's com blared to life, "Flame to Bat, sir, I am getting a dradis contact at heading 124 carom 025 moving away from the military craft and out to the perimeter of the yard!"

Michael sat up straighter in the cockpit and looked to his dradis screen, "Confirmed, unknown contact at heading 124 carom 025. I am not getting an I.F.F. are you Flame?"

"Negative Bat, no I.F.F. is showing up."

"Bat to Yard Delta CIC, come in please."

"Go for CIC." came the uninterested reply.

"CIC we have an unknown contact out at the far end of the Colonial Fleet Yard, do we have anything out here?" Michael almost yelled as his adrenaline began to raise.

"What, no sir we have nothing out there and there is nothing on our dradis."

"Jones to Struck, our dradis does not go that far sir and is intermittent at best." came Major Jones voice over the radio.

"Jones, send the patrol out here as soon as you can and launch as many of the other vipers as you can just in case." Michael ordered.

There was a small pause before Jones replied, "Sir the two Vipers on patrol are at the opposite side and are about 15 minutes away, and it may take us 45 minutes to launch any additional craft we have no one on ready reserve status."

Michael felt his timper began to flare, but quickly calmed himself, "Roger CIC, Bat and Flame moving to intercept, prep two Raptors with as many Marines as you can get your hands on for posible boarding action."

"Roger Bat, will do" came Jones curt reply.

"Flame begin challenge and inform the ship to come to a complete stop and prepare to be boarded for inspection. Tell them to comply or be prepared to be fired upon." Michael informed his Raptor Pilot.

"This is Raptor 385 of the Colonial Fleet you are here by order to come to a complete stop and prepare to be boarded for inspection, comply or be prepared to be fired upon." Moody said in a slightly nervous voice.

They had come to within visual range of the ship and he could tell that it appeared to be an old fleet heavy resupply and combat support ship. Most of those kind of craft had been disarmed and used as prison barges or armoured transports, he wondered where they found this ship from or were they trying to steal it from the yard.

Just then his dradis went fully active and he began to receive warnings that his viper had been engaged by anti-aircraft systems. Michael saw flashes of light on the outside of the old ship and before he could react.

"Krypter, Krypter, Krypter, This is flame we have taken anti-aircraft fire and have lost engines two and three, as well as lateral flight controls, please advise!" came Moody's panicked shouts over the com in Struck's ear.

"Well, Frak." was all Michael could think.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

 **When it Rains**

 **-1030 Hours, 0.2 light years outside Helios Delta near the Hecate Cloud, Fleet Reclamation Yard Delta -**

Michael quickly went to max thrust and move his Viper in front of the wounded Raptor, "Flame make your heading 500 carom 857 and move out of the engagement area at best speed. I will try to intercept any incoming engagement. Find the nearest cover and prepare to direct any incoming reinforcements."

Michael had to quickly began to take evasive action, since as soon as Flame began to make her withdraw the A.A. guns of the heavy support ship began targeting him directly and he could clearly see several tracer rounds fly past his cockpit windows. Michael could feel his Viper when it reached max thrust and had to keep clenching his leg muscles or he would black out from the g-force pressing on his body and lack of blood to his brain.

Michael flew his Viper in several erratic maneuvers until he was coming in at the six o'clock low of the ship. He cut the thrusters when he was within about five-hundred and fifty meters of the ships engines and began to make quick bursts of fire on his guns aiming at the base of the engine ports. Within one-hundred and fifty meters of the ship, Michael saw the two main engines cut off and several minor explosions cause small pieces of the engine to blow away from the ship.

Quickly engaging his lateral thrusters and leaving his forward overall momentum relative to the now engineless ship, Michael moved his Viper into a wide arc; keeping his nose pointed at the ship the entire time. Michael made small adjustments in order to target several of the A.A. guns on the starboard side of the ship in order to reduce the chance of the ship being able to mount a successful defence when the boarding teams arrived.

Very quickly Michael found himself nose to nose with the other ship. Cutting all momentum relative to the other ship, Michael keyed his mic, "Unknown vessel this is Viper 411 of the Colonial Fleet Reclamation Yard Delta. You are hereby required to come to a complete stop and prepare to be boarded by Colonial Marines. Any further aggressive action on your part will cause me to continue firing on your vessel until it is either destroyed or unable to make any further aggressive actions." Michael spoke in a tone that clearly stated that he was completely serious.

Michael repeated his orders several times and even though the ship did stop all movement he never got any reply over the wireless.

Before he could repeat himself again, he had his wireless come to life, "Bat, this is caveman do you copy."

"Caveman this is Bat, send your traffic." Michael replied.

"Sir, myself and shovel are on station and are taking up positions on the four and eight o'clock of the unknown vessel. Raptor 736 and 696 are inbound with 12 excitable Marines, E.T.A. 9 minutes." came the voice of a young female pilot.

"Roger, Caveman, E.T.A. of boarding party 9 minutes. That seems fast to get together a boarding party." Michael stated over the com.

"Yes Sir, apparently when the Yard went to condition one and the Major made the announcement that he needed Marines in the landing bay for a combat boarding party. Gunnery Sergeant Smith had to take control before the Marines started a fight for who got to come." Caveman chuckled over the radio.

"Roger Caveman, you and Shovel hold position and await further orders." Michael stated and switched his com back to the general channel and again made his challenge to the old fleet heavy resupply and combat support ship.

 **\- 1030 Hours, Fleet Reclamation Yard Delta -**

Gunnery Sergeant Raul Smith was making his way to the yards armoury in order to complete his daily inspection of the Marine Armoury and the Marine barracks that were near it. He had been stationed at the Yard for just over five months and he was already regretting accepting the assignment. Unlike most of the personnel assigned to the yard he had had a long and awarded career in the Colonial Marines. Unfortunately for him he needed one more space or ship posting in order to get his maximum retirement when he was eligible in five years. He was told that this would be an easy assignment and that he could just ride out his last few years without having to deal with the normal crap on board a line combat vessel.

Now the Gunney was wishing he could go back to the Fleet assignment Officer and punch him right in the mouth. Almost every one of the 50 Marines assigned to Yard Delta were wash-out waste of Oxygen and toilet paper and had some sever disciplinary issues. Some days it was all he could do to not want to space the whole lot of them, but he was a professional and would not let the situation stop him from doing his duty. Fortunately, the new Yard Commander was willing to listen to his suggestions about increasing the discipline of the Marines stationed there and so far it was slowly working.

As the Gunney rounded the last corner to the armoury, the overhead speakers screamed to life, "Attention all hands, set Condition one throughout the Yard, I say again, set Condition one throughout the Yard. This is not a drill. This is not a drill. Marines are to report to the Docking bay for Combat Boarding Action, again Marines are to report to the Docking bay for Combat Boarding Action."

Smith was already at a dead run to the armoury before the speaker repeated the first line. As he neared the Armoury and Barracks he saw the largest cluster frak he could ever imagine. Almost 35 marines were trying to get through the small door to the armoury in order to get their equipment and their weapons. Smith shouted in his best old Drill Instructor voice, "Marines, Attention."

Almost as one and out of hard ingrained reflexes all the Marines snap to attention with their backs straight and eyes ahead. Smith continued, "Alright Marines you are to un-Frak yourselves right this instant, and each of you are to move to the right side of the hall facing the Armoury." As the Marines began to follow his orders Smith continued to direct them in getting geared-up and weapons assigned and ready. Gunnery Sergeant Smith than frog marched two squads of twenty-two Marines to the bay and sent the rest to security assignments throughout the Yard.

As the Marines entered the bay, Chief Holbrook waved the Gunney over to two waiting raptors and an old transport shuttle. "Gunney we got room for six marines in each Raptor and the rest will need to load onto the shuttle with the five engineers and one medic that will follow after the ship is secured."

Gunney looked over to his marines and yelled for the squad leaders informing them of the situation. Smith sent one squad leader and a fireteam to one raptor, while he took a Fireteam to the second waiting Raptor. He had the Second squad Leader and his squad load onto the shuttle.

 **\- 1045 Hours, Fleet Reclamation Yard Delta -**

Gunnery Sergeant Smith felt the Raptor stop sharply as it bumped into the enemy ship and looked over to the Marines lined up behind him, "Ok Marines, our target is to take the C.I.C. and we will clear the area from were we dock to the C.I.C. so that the shuttle behind us can dock with the reinforcements and the engineers. Now let's show these frakers why you do not mess with Colonial Marines!"

As one the Marines yelled, "so say we all!"

The E.C.O on the Raptor gave the Gunney a thumbs up sign as he opened the door between the raptor and the ship. Smith grabbed a flash bang grenade off his vest as the Marine behind him grabbed a smoke grenade and they both dropped them down the hatch at the same time. As soon as the flash bang went off Gunney dropped down the hole into the other ship.

Most of the ships lights appeared to be out and it seemed the ship was on whatever emergency power that there was left. The corridors were painted in the normal grey that was to be expected on military vessels and everything looked to be in good condition not the rust wall that he was accustomed to seeing at the Yard.

Smith and the fireteam with him had made it halfway to the C.I.C. of the nearly deserted ship before they came in contact with the crew. As Gunney rounded a corner in the corridor he almost ran face first into a surprised Pirate that was carrying an assault rifle and before the pirate could react Gunney butt-stroked him in the face, knocking him out cold. Two more pirates were directly behind him and had started to raise their rifles when the two Marines behind Smith shot them both in the chest, killing both quickly with their suppressed assault rifles. One of the Marines quickly searched the unconscious pirate and secured him to a pipe with his quick cuffs before the Fireteam continued on.

It took another five minutes and two more incidents were they had met pirate crewmen in the hall before they made it to the door to the C.I.C. One of Smiths Marines had been injured and Smith had him guard the disabled and bound pirates in one of the unused store rooms they had cleared. Smith got his Marines stacked up to assault the C.I.C. before he radioed the other assault team, "Delta One One, this is Delta One Six, come in."

Smiths earpieces crackled to life, "Delta One Six, go ahead for Delta One One."

"What is your status Delta One One?" Smith inquired.

Squad Leader Rogers replied in a steady tone, "We have cleared the Engineering area and have it secured. We have one injured Marine at requires evac to Yard Delta for treatment. We Have captured seven, Wounded three and two enemy combatants Killed In Action. Request further orders."

Smith thought about it for a second before replying, "Leave two Marines to guard Engineering and escort your wounded and the prisoners to the location of the reinforcement shuttle. We are about to breach the C.I.C."

"Roger, will do, Delta One Six." came the chipped reply.

Smith then pulled his last flash bang from a pouch and looked at the young Marine holding the door wheel to the C.I.C.. With a nod from Smith the door was slightly opened and Smith pulled the pen on the grenade and tossed it through the opening. With quick action the grenade went off, the door was pulled fully open and then Smith entered the C.I.C. with his team. As soon as they entered they began to take fire from the defending pirates. Smith saw one pirate in front of him and shot him twice in the chest before shifting his rifle sights to the next target.

Smith saw who he thought looked like the Captain point his pistol at one of his Marines, as Smith was coming around to engage, the Pirate began to fire. In the corner of Smiths eye he saw a Marine go down with red mist spraying out the back of his head. Smith shot the Captain once in the shoulder but missed his second shot. He saw the Captain go down as his pistol flew from his hand, but before he could re-engage one of the other fireteam members kicked him in the face and knocked him out cold.

"Clear Left." "Clear Middle." Gunny started hearing his Marines call out and he began to look around and almost as quick as it started it was over, "Clear Right, All Clear." the Gunney concluded before pressing his radio transmitter.

"This is Delta Six to all stations, The C.I.C. is now secure. We have one Marine K.I.A and five Pirates dead with two others wounded. Request reinforcement shuttle dock and have the Marine Squads break into fireteam to continue checking the ship. All prisoners and wounded are to be placed on the Shuttle with a Marine Guard and sent to the Yard." Gunnery Sergeant Smith stated over the com.

"Delta One Six, this is Bat, I have called for several tugs in order to tow the ship to dock with the yard, so we can have more personnel go over it." Michael informed the Marine Gunnery Sergeant. "Please have your team continue to check the ship until then."


End file.
